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Cassandra Lilova
i think i saw you riding in a car; you looked happy for a woman Cassandra (not "Cassie," please) steals stuff. She is also professionally saucy. More specifically speaking, she is a young woman in her late twenties who is largely self-made, independent, and more than slightly self-interested, though not without morals; that said, "honor among thieves" is a crock, to her. She traveled with a group of criminals, as their only female member -- they had nothing so official as a name, functioning more as a rag-tag bunch of associates -- for about six years before being accused of feeding information to the FBI. She insists she did no such thing, and this may or may not be true, but no one's listening, anyway. So she stole a bunch of their money with a note roughly approximating "fuck all y'all, then" and took off. black fingers in your mouth and a white, white pearl choker Full name: Cassandra Tamara Lilova Age/DOB: 27; April 12th, 1982. Zodiac: Aries. Profession: Thief. Height/Weight: 5'8"/132 lbs. Hair/Skin/Eyes: Black/olive/brown. Ethnicity/Nationality: Xoraxai, Turkish, Bulgarian. American-born. Education: Up to 9th grade, assorted schools. Residence: N/A Languages: In order of proficiency, English, Spanish, Turkish, a little Arabic. Family: N/A Aesthetics: Cassandra is a fairly tall, athletically slim woman in her mid-to-late twenties, with large brown eyes too sly and catlike to let her be called doe-eyed, the type of lighter olive skin that tans easily, and long dark hair that can't seem to decide whether it's straight or wavy. Her hair is also usually worn down, unless she's doing something physical or otherwise involved, in which case it's in a braid or ponytail for practicality. Her bone structure is the delicate, finely hewn sort, with a small (though not quite thin) mouth, and a small, straight, and slightly upturned nose to match. She's deceptively pretty, not entirely in the classical sense, but conventional enough to be versatile. Clothing: Cassandra acquires various styles depending on whatever persona she needs to adopt, but on her own time, she tends toward boots (usually with a bit of a heel), very fitted trousers, leather jackets, and silk blouses, always geared around creating a leggy, sleek silhouette. She isn't averse to dresses or skirts (especially skirts), but with the level of activity in her life, pants are just a lot more sensible. She does wear a lot of black, which is probably a bad sartorial habit, but it's just so easy to find. Perfume: 3 i think i saw you reaching for a glass, with your lanky white arms powers nothing else moves that way, are you kidding me? A fallacy of teenage pregnancy is that if the baby is brought to term, satisfactory adoptive parents are easily found and transaction easily processed. Instead, on occasion, emotionally exhausted nineteen-year-old girls bullied out of abortion leave their difficult, expensive, willful toddlers at hospitals and never come back, and unless you're really self-righteous, it's hard to even blame them. No one is really at fault or a villain in Cassandra's early life--just unlucky. She was placed in foster care at the age of about two, with the vague awareness that her mother simply did not have the finances and support to care for her; a paternal figure did not turn up, and she instead spent the majority of her life in the system. Group homes were preferable to fostering or potential adoptive parents, God forbid. Eventually, she was too big and too mean to even be entertained much in the latter scenario, like a puppy that's nearly grown and already has all its bad habits for life. This naturally develops some feelings of abandonment and isolation, but if you are very faintly blessed with the gift--as Cassandra is--it's easier to transform it into a sense of feeling deservedly separate. Superior, even. This translated to petty crime, mostly to the tune of larceny (among other things) and sometimes assault, although she always claimed it was someone who could afford it, or that she was provoked. At thirteen, she was taken in by a foster mother who was cognizant of both her abilities, her intelligence, and her budding sense of cruelty--the last had to be and was, eventually, somewhat managed, since most of it was borne out of teenage girl rage, anyway. The bond was impacting but not necessarily lasting or heartwarming--Cassandra was unwilling to live by anyone else's rules, and after two years in that house, set out on her own, regardless of the consequences. The first six months were rough, but she was good at something other than what was expected of girls on the street: stealing. It took years before she was actually skilled, but she had natural talents, especially with electronics and technology. She was much, much more physically aggressive than she really needed to be, eager to establish herself not as anyone's moll of a girlfriend but her own force to be reckoned with, even though she was chronologically not much more than a child. She'd never had a reason to be ambitious before. Having goals and being able to complete them was satisfying, and she'd take something that reliable over happiness any day of the week. At twenty, she was scouted by a man looking for a woman with gymnastic talents to assist in a theft, and she took the opportunity. One team-up turned into two, and then three, and ultimately she was a part of the group. Despite being the only girl, though, she never liked playing the cliched bait role, and frequently took up the role of enforcer instead--she had her personal life, certainly, but it stayed separate. (She also didn't fuck her colleagues, which would have seriously muddled the waters, contrary to popular opinion in their group of acquaintances.) By about twenty-five, she'd been in prison twice: for four months, at eighteen, and two years for grand theft from twenty-two to twenty-four. She'd also built up a not insignificant nest egg of about sixty grand, plus goods that were worth more than that--things like art or gems are used as collateral or easily hidden payment in some circles, not necessarily just coveted by black market collectors. Still, she didn't do it entirely for the money so much as the thrill, and the sense of accomplishment. Her motives didn't matter that much to her colleagues as long as she got the job done, but their own, in the group of about six, varied wildly. Some of them were comfortable trading information and goods to terrorists, if it got a profit. (Funny fact: they were most often approached by the homegrown, non-religious sorts, despite what the media was telling everyone.) my head plays it over and over, don't interrupt me game history i think i saw you walking in the city, hips like boy's personality i think i heard you singing: "oh poor sky, don't cry on me, did somebody break your heart again?" "oh poor sky, don't cry on me, are you gonna fall apart again?" the sun fell behind you and it never stood up Florence and the Machine - "Girl With One Eye" all dolled-up in straps, all colored in, now, love, where have you been? This is a fictional character, represented by actress Cansu Dere. Lyrics are "All Dolled-up In Straps" by The National. Category:Characters Category:Living